


The Romilda Incident.

by Onlymystory



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Truth Serum, Valentine's Day, no dub-con or non-con, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:45:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymystory/pseuds/Onlymystory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter decides a love potion and a truth potion hidden in chocolates are the best way to get Derek and Stiles to admit how they feel about each other. It was the perfect plan. Except the chocolates got mixed up. And then eaten by Derek and Stiles all at once...<br/>This in itself would not be the worst thing Peter has had to deal with.<br/>But now Derek isn’t so much running his fingers down Stiles’ arm as he is counting the moles. Literally. For the third time in fifteen minutes, Derek dots each mole, follows it with an Eskimo kiss, and says “One sexy mole for Derek. Two sexy moles for Derek.” And so on.<br/>You can see the problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Romilda Incident.

It all starts with Peter. As do most things in Beacon Hills.

Peter says it began with Derek and Stiles and the ridiculous way Stiles won’t act on his feelings and Derek won’t talk about them.

Or with the way both of them keep saving each other, to the point that Stiles stupidly jumped in front of the Alpha pack to protect Derek a few months ago.

Whenever Peter makes these sorts of statements, Boyd likes to helpfully point out that Stiles and Derek wouldn’t have met if Peter hadn’t bit Scott in the woods.

So clearly…this is all Peter’s fault.

The plan was so perfect too.

Lydia agreed to chant the spell and Danny snuck them into his parents’ chocolate shop after hours. Sure Peter had to deal with Jackson trying to glare at him (it still looks like a toddler’s pout, no matter what Jackson says) but the point is that the plan was good.

Potions in chocolate. A box for Stiles. A box for Derek.

One learns so much from Harry Potter.

Derek was to get the truth potion. So that he would be forced to use his words and tell Stiles how he feels.

And before anyone yells at Peter, the potion is specifically designed to only reveal truths about Stiles and Derek. Peter is not so cruel as to make Derek talk about things like the fire because of a spell.  He’s just really, really bored. Beacon Hills lacks satisfactory entertainment.

Even taunting Chris on full moons has lost the appeal.

Okay that’s a lie. It will never lose its appeal.

Anyway. Stiles was getting the love potion. Just enough to encourage affection so Derek could respond and Stiles could see that his love was not actually unrequited this time around. And so as not to risk any misplaced guilt, both potions were concocted in a way that kept any affections to a kissing and PDA level. Sex is off the table until they’re both clear of the potion’s effects.

Like he said, the plan was good. But like most great plans, the downfall was in sloppy execution.

Or sabotage as Peter claims.

Erica, Lydia, and Allison decided to do things their own way. Which meant they had to steal the boxes of chocolate. Isaac easily gave his up, agreeing with the plan. Scott—who had Stiles’ box—was trickier but considering all Isaac had to do was widen his eyes and pout his lips just slightly to distract Scott and leave the box unwatched.

Peter secretly found it ridiculous how many people bought into Isaac’s innocent puppy routine. The entire pack had watched him use it just before catching an evil elf (what was the world coming to) off guard and slitting his throat.

Isaac might be Peter’s favorite.

The point in this story however, is that the girls mixed the chocolates.

And because Stiles is a greedy glutton and Derek is apparently into hoarding all food in his stomach, the pair ate all of their chocolates within the hour before the pack meeting.

To say the dosage ended up being a little strong is an understatement.

Because all of that has led the pack to this moment.

Derek is sitting in his chair by the window like he always does during pack meetings.

Unlike every other day, Stiles is not sprawled on the floor across the room at the angle that he claims offers the best acoustics but really just means he can stare at Derek’s ass unobtrusively when the Alpha inevitably gets up to pace the room.

Stiles is instead curled up in Derek’s lap. One hand keeps weaving through Derek’s hair and the Alpha in turn is tracing lines down Stiles’ arm.

This in itself would not be the worst thing Peter has had to deal with.

But Derek isn’t so much running his fingers down Stiles’ arm as he is counting the moles. Literally. For the third time in fifteen minutes, Derek dots each mole, follows it with an Eskimo kiss, and says “One sexy mole for Derek. Two sexy moles for Derek.” And so on.

You can see the problem.

Stiles, for his part, is thankfully no longer sharing haikus about Derek’s ass. His ode to an Alpha’s stubble is not much of an improvement.

The affection is there.

The awkward truth is there.

But somehow mixing the two has created a very bizarre hybrid version of the spell to the point that neither Derek nor Stiles are able to understand why everyone is staring at them.

Peter is living in a Buffy episode.

“We have to do something,” says Scott after a long, disgusting moment of watching Stiles compose a sonnet to Derek’s eye color. “This is wrong. I can’t unhear these things.”

“It’s kind of sweet,” protests Allison halfheartedly. “In a really weird way.”

Jackson coughs a laugh. “Stiles’ last poem was, and I quote because this is my life now,

> _‘Your eyes are like the sea._  
>  I want you inside of me.  
>  Your lips are red as berries.  
>  Derek, please pop my cherry.  
>  Your jawbones could cut glass.  
>  I need to pound your ass.’ 

“So yes, Scott is right, we have to do something.”

Lydia huffs. “This is Peter’s fault anyway. He should fix it.”

“How the hell is it my fault? You girls were the ones who switched the potions!”

Erica jumps in to start arguing on why they were trying to help because Peter’s idea wasn’t very good. Peter and Scott share the opinion that you don’t mix potions and soon they’re pretty much just yelling at each other.

Boyd finally interrupts. “I don’t care whose fault it was or wasn’t. Listen to them.”

“Wanna taste you,” says Stiles, gazing adoringly into Derek’s eyes. “Lick the alpha right out of you.”

Derek pets Stiles’ hair. “We would have beautiful children.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, wolf muffin,” says Stiles.

Scott and Jackson make loud gagging noises.

“We can adopt,” says Derek definitively.

Stiles coos.

Erica clamps pillows over her ears.

“The normal dose was supposed to wear off in an hour,” says Peter. “There were 10 chocolates in each box and it’s been what, seven hours? So in three hours they’ll stop.”

“Is there any danger while they’re like this?” asks Lydia.

Peter shakes his head. “If we were attacked sure, but they won’t hurt each other. You guys can go. Those of us who live in the house can deal with them.”

Boyd growls low.

“And by that, I mean I will stay up and keep an eye on them since it’s my fault but Erica, Isaac, and Boyd will be in the house in case anything does go wrong and I need backup,” corrects Peter.

Boyd huffs approvingly and nudges Erica. She pokes back and nods towards Isaac, who’d fallen asleep on the window seat. They do their couple talk thing as Stiles calls it, where he makes a face and Erica’s eyes do something and a minute later Boyd is lifting Isaac up in a fireman’s carry and following Erica to put their packmate to bed.

Sleep is pretty much the only time Isaac seems completely content—well sleep and when he’s with Danny—so Boyd doesn’t mind all that much.

Peter tries to nap but tuning Derek and Stiles out is next to impossible. Derek continues his talk of babies and true love and other sappy sort of things. But his hands are groping in ways decidedly pornographic. Stiles on the other hand is speaking obscenely but trying to cuddle.

Clearly, Peter is going to need coffee and a good book to deal with the next three hours. Or two hours forty one minutes if you’re the sort of person who likes countdowns.

Peter used to like countdowns.

Until two hours and six minutes were left and Derek announces to Stiles that they should install a countdown to sexy times clock.

Peter hates everyone today.

At the fifty seven minute mark, both Stiles and Derek fell asleep, tangled up in each other on the couch.

Tomorrow Peter will buy out the discount chocolate at the stores. He deserves it after tonight.

~

Stiles rolls over the next morning—scratch that—attempts to roll over and opens his eyes to see Derek staring at him. “Hi,” says Stiles, in an odd questioning tone. He’s not really sure why he’s on the couch at the pack house.

That fact in itself is not so rare. The tangled up with Derek part is. And then the memory of last night hits him at the same time that Derek wakes up enough to remember as well.

“I’m going to kill Peter,” growls Derek, pushing against Stiles to sit up.

Stiles tugs him back down.  “Stay.”

“What? Stiles, Peter gave us a potion. A fucking love potion on Valentine’s Day and you don’t want me to kill him?”

Stiles shrugs. “Well the thing is, I wouldn’t have chosen some of my particular word choices last night, but the feelings behind them were true. I like you. A lot. So we could go kill Peter for using a Harry Potter book as an inspiration guide. Or you could stay here and kiss me for a while.”

Derek leans back over Stiles and with a feather light movement, almost reverently, touches his lips to Stiles’ lips.

Stiles finds that sweet, he really does, but he’s also got morning wood and he’s remembering how interested Derek was in some of the things he suggested yesterday so he just pulls at Derek until he’s fully on top of Stiles’ body and kisses hard.

“Wow,” pants Derek when Stiles lets up to take a breath. “Your mouth is fucking amazing.”

Stiles smiles cheekily. “You say the sweetest things to me. If you let me suck you off, I’ll write another verse to my sonnet in honor of you.”

Derek grins down at Stiles.

“What?”

“I’m going to write your poem down and frame it.”

“Okay,” says Stiles agreeably. “We’ll hang it next to the sexy times clock.”

 

_Epilogue:_

A year after the Romilda Incident, as it has come to be called by the pack, when Derek and Stiles have fought their way through issues both earned and ridiculous and kissed their way through even more, Valentine’s Day looms again.

This time around, Peter is the only one still single. It’s not that he wants to be. He even tried asking Melissa McCall out a few months ago. She laughed and told him she’d been dating John Stilinski for three months but nice try. He has his eye set on a long past grieving hunter, but nothing’s really happened.

Since he’s alone and “starting to look pathetic given how much he practically sits around molting” (Lydia’s words), the pack gave Peter Valentine’s cards, flowers, and a bottle of wine.

Seeing as the wine hasn’t been opened, Peter suspects nothing and drinks the wine without hesitation.

As has been previously implied, Peter is an idiot.

If Peter had been at home earlier that day, he would have noticed several people crowded around that bottle, a syringe inserted through the cork.

Peter spends Valentine’s in the Argent’s front yard, badly serenading Chris with 80’s pop songs.

The singing stops when John Stilinski is called out for a noise disturbance. He records the fifth rendition of “In Your Eyes” on his phone so Stiles can post it to Youtube later. Documenting evidence is important.

The following morning Peter wakes up in Chris’ bed to French toast and 10,000 hits.


End file.
